All The Glory
by Justifiably
Summary: AU Sixteen year old Maka has terminal leukemia. She and Soul struggle to keep their lives together and iron out a normal relationship in the face of the tragic situation. Written for SE Angst Week. This does not have a happy ending.
1. your father cried on the telephone

Written for SE Angst week so angst and doom again, thanks to Ness for betaing this thing.

 **January 2nd**

He should have known that everything was going to go wrong that day from the moment some freshman had stepped on his new shoes, to missing about every green light possible on the way to Maka's house. It was fine now though - the day was over and he could spend the rest of the evening playing video games while his best friend would surely be doing the homework that he was bringing over like the goody two shoes she was.

It had been a surprise that she missed school. Usually she'd be shooting for highest attendance award along with some other nerdy achievements, but if she was sick, there was nothing to do about it besides to go around to all of her classes, get her dumb homework from all her advanced placement teachers, and ignore the baffled looks they gave him.

Oh, for Maka Albarn. Now it all makes sense, they said. _Better not have any high expectations for the resident slacker._

He peeked in the back door and checked around for red haired psycho dad. When Spirit was no where to be found, he started to sneak over to the staircase until a pretty shocking sight stopped him in his tracks. Spirit _was_ home, on the phone, looking more solemn than Soul ever thought was possible for the old goat. But most shocking were the quiet tears sliding down his was seriously disturbing. Maka's old man was prone to blubbering, a sort of advanced form of crocodile tears used to garner her pity, but with Maka squirrelled away in her room, there was no one for him to be showing off for. It lead Soul to almost believe something might be actually wrong.

He shook his head and climbed the stairs before he got suckered into any weird activities, especially comforting the guy. Maka's door was cracked open so he pushed it open cautiously; he only had to walk in on her changing once to know to avoid sudden movements. "Mak-" he was about to greet her until she hurriedly shushed him with a look he could only describe as an internal version of her usual roar. She gestured wildly for him to come over while writing furiously with her free hand. She had the other phone wedged between her cheek and her shoulder.

 _I'm listening in to my parents don't say a word!_

He examined the words carefully before nodding slowly. Maka pressed the speaker button on the phone to make her mother's evenly paced words, punctuated by Spirit's quiet sobs, audible from receiver.

"I can't just drop my schedule, I'm in Cambodia for God's sake," Ex-Mrs. Albarn said resolutely.

"Have you been listening to anything I've been saying - I told you everything the doctor told me." Spirit's voice cracked sporadically. It reminded Soul of when _She_ left; it was the only other time he had heard Maka's dad sound like that.

"You've had full custody for a while. She probably doesn't even want to see me."

"I know she does, and you would too if you actually got around to writing back to her."

"You have no idea the stress this puts on my career." A resolute sigh ends Maka's mother's half of the argument, the only thing she had left to add were personal attacks. She had always been stony and solid, a more blunt forced version of Maka's own apparently inherited stubbornness. "You're just trying to manipulative, Spirit."

"How can I be manipulative about this? You think I would lie about your daughter having leukemia?"

 _What the fuck._ Maka smacked a hand over Soul's mouth before he could interject, but he was sure to write his sentiments down on Maka's note paper. He was reduced to acting like a middle school girl, scribbling furiously on the paper, when his best friend apparently had cancer. He could hardly imagine it, topping it off with, of course, was the absent Albarn, who would apparently not be making an appearance any time soon. No wonder Spirit was so broken up.

Maka, on the other hand, seemed too calm for anyone's good, holding steady eye contact with him while her parents argued in the background. Spirit grew increasingly shrill while Maka's mom grew increasingly distant, as if South East Asia wasn't far enough.

 _Just wait_ , she wrote, fingers tapping silently on the words. He tried to stare her down, mouthing for her to hang up the phone; this wasn't productive for anyone anymore. She just wrote without breaking her unnerving eye contact.

 _I can't hang up - it will hang up the call._

It only lasted another two minutes before Spirit dissolved into bawling and Maka's mom hung up the phone.

"Don't say it," Maka warned, but he couldn't help himself.

"Leukemia? Maka? How long have you known? Is this why you missed school?" It was too many words for his overgrown and underused mouth to handle, but they tumbled out anyway.

"I'm fine, it's going to be fine," Maka placated while Soul shook. "I just had an appointment today, everything is fine."

Fine. She said the word so excessively, as if it would make everything go away.

"You just found out today? Holy fucking shit."

"Don't swear like that!"

"Fucking hell." He ignored her words and continued to spout profanities under his breath until she cut him off.

"I found out a couple weeks ago," she amended with a wince.

"And you just thought to tell me now? What is wrong with you?"

"I mean, I didn't exactly tell you. I just wanted everything to be normal. No one else can know - you weren't supposed to know." The words came spilling out of her like water, but her face was as still calm and dry as the chill weather.

"You can't just keep something like that from me."

"I'm sorry, I just, wanted you to keep acting normal; everything is such a mess around here. You saw my dad, he's a wreck."

"Then I'm going to act normal, by being mad at you for keeping it a secret. How serious is it anyway?"

"It's not serious. I'm going to start chemo in a couple weeks, and it's all going to be fine. I need you to stop freaking out about it." She didn't beg, but there was still an uncomfortable desperation in her voice that made Soul flinch. She was right, with Spirit unable to remain calm about the situation, Maka was being the adult between the two of them; there was certainly no room for Soul to break down too.

He nodded. "If that's what you really need, we'll act like everything is normal."

"Everything _is_ normal," she corrected him emphatically, denial written across her forehead between her scrunched eyebrows.

His heart was plunging into apprehension. Maka was starting her chemistry homework. Everything was normal.

He did not stay for dinner - family dinners were a strictly mandatory affair in the Evans house hold - so he left at five, walking himself out. Spirit was sitting at the kitchen table when Soul tried to sneak out the back door.

"Soul, didn't know you were here." The man's eyes were bloodshot, his voice shaky with post-storm adrenaline.

"Yeah, just dropping off Maka's homework since she wasn't at school." Soul reached for the doorknob.

"She just had a cold."

Soul knew it was a lie.

"She told me, you know." It was a bad idea to call the bluff. It triggered a new wave of blubbering from Maka's father, and within a second, Soul found himself wrapped in a bear hug by the older man with no idea how to comfort him. "It's gonna be fine, she said it was going to be fine."

"She didn't really tell you then," Spirit whispered, his words disjointed with tiny sobs.

Soul balked. "Tell me what?" he asked apprehensively.

"Two months."

Everything was not normal.


	2. the complications you could do without

**January 12th**

Falling for Maka had not been love at first sight by any means. She had dragged him along through two years of one sided friendship from age seven to nine, and he definitely thought she had cooties. He didn't know how she put up with him when they were kids. It had been a case of disliking her less than anyone else, a friendship of safety for years. Until suddenly he was eleven and realized he wanted to spend every waking moment with her and not just because she had become a human security blanket.

She was more dear to him than was cool to admit. So now that his mundane moments had suddenly become so precious, he was at a loss for how to spend it.

Two weeks ago he had found out she was sick, _dying_ , with a short lease on life. None of the rest of their school friends knew, and Maka didn't know that he knew the severity of the situation. She was content to spend the afternoon reading on her bed, mostly ignoring him while he fiddled around with dumb computer games. It had been that way for the past few years after all, and she was determined to keep things the same while her life was crumbling around her.

She was absorbed in her book, even though it was the third time she's read it. He couldn't imagine Charlotte Bronte getting more interesting with each read, but he couldn't tell Maka that. She was deep in her book while he was deep in turmoil

Her shoulder blades pressed out from her hunched figure; it made him wonder if she was losing weight. Wiry and muscled were words he would commonly use for her lacrosse strengthened arms - bony was not. Still, there were intriguing shadows on her back that he wanted to press his hands up against.

"You okay?" Unabashed staring probably wasn't the best plan.

"I'm fine," he answered, "just tired."

"There's space up here if you want to lie down," she mumbled into her book.

Two solid years of pining had steeled his nerves to the effects of finger brushing or hand holding during horror movies, but now her neck was pinking and she was inviting him to lie down on her bed at the same time as her, albeit clothed and platonically.

He had thought for a while that there might be some deeply buried attraction on her side, but he could also be psyching himself up into being overly hopeful. But he always said he would wait for her to make the first move, if there ever was a first move to make. This was probably not a romantic endeavor. _Just keep dreaming._ He took the invitation and crawled up next to her on the bed in the space she made for him - she had scooted all the way next to the window with her sunset lit shoulder pressed against it.

Admiration without action was the way to go.

His eyes flickered against his will - it was a good angle to see her from and he didn't actually want to fall asleep. Alas, insomniac that he was, a crash was imminent and there was no stopping it. Her bed was too comfortable for his own good. The smell of Maka wasn't helping either.

He woke up at dusk with blonde eyelashes inches from his own; Maka was napping too. Her hair was strewn awkwardly across her face, a strand dangling in her mouth, so he pushed it back across one too soft cheek to rest behind her ear. Dusty eyelashes fluttered open; suddenly it was her eyes that were inches away from his and looking at him with some mix of confusion and affection. Facial proximity meant her mouth was just inches away from his too. Infinitely quiet breath was on his lips. What if he stole that breath from her and kept it in his lungs? Could that be done?

A downward cast of Maka's eyes meant she probably noticed his lip-ward glances, but he was too mesmerized to care. The skin under her eyes was purple, nearly translucent. He needed to put his thumb there, maybe feel how her eyelashes felt on the edge of his skin.

He leaned forward and measured the distance between their mouths to a centimeter before she balked.

"What are you doing?" _It was too good to be true._

"Nothing, sorry, I thought-"

"Were you…" she trailed for a second, round eyes widening beyond their usual dinner plate proportions. "Were you going to kiss me?"

"I was going to, but I guess not." A childhood stutter creeps back into his voice along with the least manly crack he has heard from his throat in three years.

"Don't just kiss me because I'm sick."

It took him aback. "What."

"I don't want a pity kiss."

"Why the hell would I do that? This is so weird, just forget about it." He desperately needed to roll over but she was holding him captive with eyes glancing dangerously at his lips. They had never felt so dry in his life but he didn't dare lick them.

"You know I like you - I don't want you to kiss me because you feel sorry for me."

 _What the hell._ He had too many questions; since when did she like him, and since when did he apparently know about it?

"I definitely did not know that," he said, choosing his words carefully. "I just wanted to."

"Soul, you're acting weird." Maka moved to roll away from him but he grabbed her arm.

"Stop, look at me." He certainly had her attention now. "I mean, I wanted to because this is how I feel normally. You wanted normal right?"

"Right."

"Then don't make weird assumptions."

Scarlet clung to her cheeks, crawling down her neck and dipping along the edge of her ears. She paused for the most awkward moment to date before speaking. "Aren't you going to do it then?"

Those were certainly words he never expected to hear from her in this context.

"I thought you didn't want me to…"

Maka groaned loudly and rolled onto her back, dangerous eyelashes no longer within a breath's distance. "This is so backwards and stupid."

Soul didn't know if he should apologize. "I mean, can I?"

"Soul," she sighed his name with a hint of disappointment in her voice. "You know I'm sick."

"It's not contagious."

"God, you're stupid. That's not what I mean."

"Maka, I don't know what the hell you mean, you're so on and off right now. If you're giving me signals, I'm not receiving them."

"I don't want you to get hurt, getting too close."

It all suddenly made sense. Maka knew she was going to die, and she didn't want him wrapped up in her business. Too bad he was already so hopelessly entangled.

"I think I'm plenty close already," he grumbled. "You're gonna have to make the call, Maka. Do you want me to act like everything is fine, or not?"

She makes the bravest bluff of the century and leans in, brushing lips against his before he can even close his eyes. It was so fast, he wasn't sure whether it really happened or not until she did it two or three more times. Words of denial about her condition crashed out of her mouth and into his. A pang of guilt ran through him; he should tell her he knows, knows that they have less than two months to spend together. But if she knows that too, then she knows everything is going to come crashing down with no chance of recovery for either one of them.

He'd rather be in her mess than out of it.


	3. you told me you were scared

**January 28th**

"Heya Soul." Liz slid into the table across from him, phone and pocket mirror in hand. "What are you up to tonight?"

"Uh, probably hanging out with Maka," he answered and turned the volume down on his iPod.

"Well I assumed that, but are you guys doing anything important, or just staring at each other thinking about making out?"

"We _do_ things." He was indignant and it showed. The knowledge of their relationship had spread quickly thanks to Black Star, and if Soul heard the words "adorable" and "long time coming" one more time, he was going to punch someone.

"Oh, you _do_ things now. Careful, Evans, don't get her knocked up." Liz practically waggled her perfectly groomed eyebrows off her stupid face.

Soul didn't think that would be a problem any time soon, or ever, considering her condition, though the rest of their friends were still ignorant to the situation. Contact between him and Maka was limited with Spirit always prowling around the house, restricted to the chastest of hand holding and quick, painfully quick, kisses on the forehead, cheeks, and delicate lips. It was the perfect middle ground between sugar and sin and Soul was in heaven when he could pretend he didn't notice her weight loss, easy bruising, and slow but sure hair thinning.

"What's even your point here?" he snapped.

"Patty and I were gonna have people over, Blake stole a handle of Smirnoff so we could get the gang together for a whole deal, if you and Maka can drag yourselves out of her weird attic for once."

"I'll ask her about it," he conceded. It was a mystery what Maka would even say about the idea - she had started getting really lethargic but was totally in denial about it.

He brought it up when they were at his house and she answered quickly. "Yeah, sure, but I have to sneak out, Papa has gotten really over protective." Soul restrained himself from retorting that he had good reason to; he was still on duty to act like nothing was wrong while Spirit fretted about medical insurance and Maka's still absent mother. "This house is a disaster zone, I need to get out."

He understood completely. "How do you want to swing that?"

"You say you're leaving, and I'll climb out the window to meet you, then we go."

"Uh, are you sure climbing out your window is safe?"

"Sure, I've done it loads of times," she answered casually, ignoring his unvoiced concern that she wasn't exactly at her peak physical strength.

"Are you _sure?_ " All words related to cancer were currently banned from his vocabulary, so he had to rely on his disapproving voice to get the message across.

Maka just glared back at him. "You'll catch me if I fall, won't you?"

"Of course."

She doesn't fall, though she was much slower and meticulous about her movements than other times Soul had seen her squirrel her way in and out of her bedroom window. He offered her his helmet and she climbed on the handlebars while he steadied the bike. They were so well practiced in two person bike riding there was hardly a wobble when they rode off to Liz and Patty's apartment.

The Thompson sisters were legally emancipated from their mom, and no one knew who their dad was, let alone his whereabouts, so now they were essentially funded by resident rich kid and do gooder, student body president, Mortimer Kid. It was an odd friendship to say the least, but living on their own gave them an ideal location for surreptitious teenage drinking.

Midnight found Soul and Maka stone sober sitting on the couch while their friends were up to some debaucherous drinking game in the kitchen. Maka was groggy and listless but determined to stay up and be social, though he was pretty sure she was going to fall asleep sitting up, and she certainly wasn't being very social. Shoulder pressed to his, she leaned her head down to pillow against his. A thought passed by that he could feasibly kiss the top of her head if he twisted his neck properly. What a joyous thing, to be able to get away with such an act.

"Sleepy?" he mumbles into her hair.

"Is that a question or an admission?"

"Maybe a bit of both."

"I wanna stay out a bit longer," she whispered into his neck. Apprehension ran through his veins like fire when he felt her mouth on his neck. Who knew his jugular was so sensitive, and who knew whether or not she could feel his hummingbird pulse from his skin and through her lips. The couch squeaked and suddenly there was much of her in his lap than he ever expected. Her shirt was an hair's breadth from his fingertips; heat radiating off her body without him laying a hand on Maka Uncharted. He had to wonder what was going on in her head when she nuzzled his neck. _Was she trying to be… seductive?_

"What the hell," he muttered and instantly regretted his decision to call out her behavior.

"Nothing." She was trembling, rooted with her knees on either side of him, her hands suddenly frozen mid hair-ruffle.

"Maka," he sighed and reluctantly nudged her from his lap. Lap sitting was nice - he would love for her to sit on his lap, if he didn't suspect something was up. "What are you doing?"

"I just thought-"

He cut her off. "You're acting weird." She melts off of him, retaking her own space on the couch but this time keeping a little more physical distance. "What did you always say when we were kids? Use your words." She was tongue tied and vulnerable, and he had tossed her childhood phrase back at her. _God he was a shit sometimes._

"I have to tell you something," she admitted. He knew exactly what she was going to tell him, what she had been avoiding telling him since he found out about the cancer.

"I know already."

"I haven't been totally honest with you."

"I know." He couldn't help but repeat himself; it had been on his mind for the past couple weeks.

"About the cancer." Maka forged on, apparently in disbelief that he actually knew what he was talking about.

"Your dad told me."

"Then, if you know, don't you want to make the most of our time together?"

His heart sank slowly. _Is that what she thought he wanted?_

"Fuck. No. Moron, come back here." He tugged on her wrist and she fell face first into his chest. The wind rushed out of her and the rainclouds broke with a heaving sob. "We are making the most of things, but I can't imagine that's what you would want if you were healthy."

She laughed darkly, "I can't even predict how it would be - everything is just so messed up now."

"First of all, there would probably be another two years of romantic tension."

Maka's quick laughter had dissolved back into tears, dampening his shirt. Arms instinctively cradled her - frail shoulder bones making a lump form in his throat as well. _Nothing was how it was supposed to be._

"I was just joking, Maka. Maka?" He peeled her hair off her sticky face to see reddened eyes glaring at him.

"You're stupid." Her face was buried once more. "I would have made a move before then."

He rubbed her back, hoping it was soothing somehow; comforting was not his forte, especially when it was Maka, who was always so independent. "Do you want me to take you home?"

"I don't want to go home tonight." She requested and he followed through. They slept on the couch with their heads at either end and their feet in the middle, the tried and true method of couch sharing, according to Liz.

"If you're sure you don't want to just let her sleep on top of you," Liz added with a wink.

No, legs in the middle was the way to go, Soul decided. His alarm was set for six the next morning, though realistically with Spirit's drinking habits, he'd probably be out until noon.

Frost still crackled on the ground in the pre-dawn light when they made their way back to the house where Spirit loomed in wait.

"Where were you two all night?" Alcohol seeped off the man's breath, making Soul recoil.

"Liz and Patty's," Maka answered stiffly and moved to step around her father but he stood impassive.

"Let me guess, _he_ was trying to put his greasy hands on you." Spirit gestured wildly at the two of them. Soul snorted, _how much more wrong could he be?_ "You shouldn't be out, it's not good for you."

"Neither is excessive drinking, Papa," Maka muttered. She let herself be pulled into her father's hug while he started weeping on her again.

"What if something happened to you?" He howled. Soul stood, awkwardly leaned over on his bike until Maka waved him off. Placating Spirit was Maka's speciality, and he had to trust her to handle things, even when she shouldn't have to be the caretaker.

Spirit just loved too fiercely and it bubbled out sometimes.


	4. on the floor at the great divide

**February 3rd**

"Are you free today?" Maka appeared out of nowhere, thin, _thin_ hair draping over his homework.

"Uh, yeah, obviously," Soul answered, barely looking at her. He wanted to meet her eyes, but her face was a harsh reminder of the inevitable.

He was a coward.

"I had a favor to ask."

"Sure."

"Could you take me to my appointment this afternoon?" Tangled thoughts screech into panic; taking her to a doctor's appointment is about the last thing he wants to do. "They're switching me to IV Chemo, and I have to get a central line put in, and I don't think Papa can handle it anymore." Ah yes, Spirit, the source of stress and run on sentences. Soul nodded, agreeing under the condition that they take her dad's car. She explained that it shouldn't be a problem if he started drinking at two again.

He felt guilty for feeling so anxious when _she_ was the one actually having the procedure. In reality, his participation in the appointment was limited to keeping her company in the waiting room and keeping himself company when she left. There were only so many magazines he could stare at, but he was thankful for not needing to watch someone intentionally cut her open and stick a tube in her.

Somehow, it was more stressful for him to _not_ seeing it happen; just _knowing_ about it gave him cold sweats. He steeled his features before her return, and let her show off her new addition.

"How's it feel?" He took her hand firmly on the way back to the car.

"Well, it looks bionic, but I feel like shit."

"Does it hurt?" Concern bubbled up in his throat and made his voice falter. He would take the scar for her if he could.

"Not really. Chemo just sucks, and I think the new one is a little more intense than the oral one. Let's get some french fries before I puke."

"You wanna puke up french fries?"

She shrugged as if it was the most normal thing. "Better than just water."

* * *

Maka clawed her way up from the bathroom floor to face the monster in the mirror. It hit her that Soul saw this more regularly that she did, bloodshot eyes and a sticky, ashy face. Looking at it made her want to throw up again. She had been less than open with her friends about what was going on, but her hair was getting stringy and sparse, the largest bald spot right on the back of her head - it was time for it to go.

Soul had gone home for dinner so she had a couple hours before he would undoubtedly be back with chocolate or something, the saint. _Breathe in, breathe out._ Elbows straddling the sink, she reached for the scissors and made the first cut. She couldn't see the back of her head easily, so it turned into a choppy mullet in a matter of minutes. Tufted and barren, she looked less like Igor and more like Frankenstein's monster. Maybe the lesser of two evils? Her wrists were shaking, her legs were clammy, and her stomach was roiling. She had been standing for too long and it made her feel disgusting. A bath could be the solution.

 _A bath would be nice_ , she decided; the thought of warm water stilled her heart rate. It would be an expedition to move across the bathroom though.

Standing without an extra balance point made her wobble; she needed an extra anchor. She spun around slowly, bracing one hand on the bathtub before clambering in and taking her clothes off in a sitting position. It made her feel so pathetic, but at least she could do it herself. She flung her clothes haphazardly over the side and turned the water up as close to boiling as she can stand. Maybe she could melt away the cancer, or at least the self loathing.

She floated just below the surface, bobbing incessantly. Though her body felt sluggish and leaden, miracles of physicals tugged her upwards. The water held her with ever cooling fingers and she sighed out shakily; she couldn't dwell in a bathtub forever - two hours was probably long enough.

"Maka?" Her Papa's voice was nearly a whisper through the door - his knocks were equally hesitant. "You've been in there a while, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, just taking a bath. I'm getting out now." She pulled the plug and the water relaxed its hold on her.

"You should try to eat something, I know how you get on chemo days." She could sense him, knew he was leaning against the door. He'd probably reach underneath to check on her if he could, but she had locked the door and barred out reality.

Damp and naked, she attempted to scale the walls of the tub the same way she got in. She might have to crawl out of the bathroom on her hands and knees, but she was determined that she would be doing it herself. She got one foot up on the edge of the tub and and tried to hoist her body up one armed, but a lack of friction worked against her and she slipped downward again. She thought of all the spiders she had seen trying to escape the confines of the bathtub and failing. Now she strangely related to them - she needed a towel to gain traction. She writhed and wiggled her way into a half kneeling position, but somehow her legs failed her. Her legs never failed her! Her legs were made of steel that could carry her across a field in less time than she had been trying to escape her own bathtub.

 _Pathetic._

"Maka? Are you alright?" Her Papa scrambled at the door like a frantic cat.

"I'm fine, I'm getting out."

Moments passed. She was not getting out. The bathroom was her new home and she was taking no visitors.

"Do you need help?" He was rattling the doorknob fruitlessly now. "I'm gonna call Soul."

"No, don't call him," she called frantically.

"Maka?" Too late, Soul was already there, as he had promised he would be. Was it really already eight? "What's wrong?"

"I think she can't get out of the bathtub," Spirit muttered.

"I can, just leave me alone already."

"Maka, just open the door," Spirit whined, panic rising to new heights. "I'll get you a blanket. Soul will avert his eyes, _like a gentleman._ " Maka could almost laugh at his unvoiced threat if her situation wasn't so dire and so pitiful.

She huddled down in the bathtub. She was getting cold, and being tired and nauseous wasn't helping. Rust dripped on her knee and she swiped away a thread of blood dripping from her nose. _Great._ "Ugh, I'm bleeding," she mumbled.

Her words stirred the demons on the other side of the door to rattle and curse the lock.

"Should we try to bust it open?" Spirit yowled. Maka thought he was trying to scratch through the door.

"We can just take the doorknob off. You have a screwdriver, right?" Curse Soul and his out of the box thinking. Well, the rescue mission was inevitable; she wouldn't have to fight her way out of the tub any longer. She was cold though - evaporative cooling was a bitch with a clear vendetta. The rattling on the other side of the door couldn't stir her. She was one step away from unconsciousness and more than likely a step closer to death.

* * *

If there was ever going to be a time to see Maka naked, this was not the way for it to happen. Spirit came at her huddled body with a blanket like a bullfighter. Soul just caught a glance of knobby knees, bloody fingers, and the worst haircut imaginable.

Spirit scooped her up in the blanket and deposited the whole ninety pound bundle in Soul's arms. "I'm need to call the doctor," he announced suddenly and left them standing, damp and dejected in the hallway.

"I told you to leave me alone," Maka whispered into his chest.

"You can't pull shit like this." Soul wasn't sure his words had the impact he intended when they're followed by a swift kiss to her forehead. She was alive, speaking, and he was relieved.

"I wanna go to bed."

"I think you're gonna have to go back to the hospital. Can you get dressed?"

"You are _not_ dressing me." She kicked her legs feebly while he carried her to her room and laid her gently on her bed. "Just bring me some sweats and I'll crawl in."

"Are you sure? Do you need anything else?"

"Just some water."


	5. nothing ever happens

**Author Notes:** For Anon who requested it, I'm sorry to say there is definitely a tragedy warning on this fic, though not in this chapter. I'll add it in the summary also, I warned for it on tumblr but forgot over here orz

* * *

 **February 13th**

Soul wasn't sure he heard the buzzer anymore. He was too focused on keeping Maka's hair even and her head unscathed, so he blocked out the drone and whisper of hair falling on the bathroom floor.

"All done, how's it feel?" Soul turned off the electric razor and set it on the edge of the sink.

Her fingers traced the unfamiliar buzzcut, like she was noticing the shape of her head for the first time. "It feels short."

"Well, at least you don't have any weird lumps on your head." He had to make a joke; they survived off of sarcasm and denial, denial, denial.

"Nah, all the lumps are inside." Reality crashed down on him with full force. It was impossibley to avoid thinking about it when she so looked the part of a cancer patient now. Of course, the doctor's orders for removal from school and all athletic activities didn't help either one of their morale.

Her school attendance had been minimal since the bathtub incident, but now she was officially out of school entirely. It made her beyond bored and miserable. He had tried to tell her it would be easier if she would agree to see their other friends, but today was the first day she would agree to it.

"Don't you want to see Tsubaki at least?" he asked.

"I do," she admitted, "but I'm scared she's mad at me."

"I already explained everything to everyone. How could they be mad?"

"They won't say anything about being mad, but I've been avoiding them for two weeks - how could they not be?"

"These are your friends, Maka. They know you're proud and stubborn."

"Am not." She stifled herself moments after the words instinctively leap from her mouth. Stubborn was her middle name. She trailed fingers along her skull, prodding her temples and hollow cheekbones. "They're going to look at me weird, with the hair gone."

"You could probably get a wig if you wanted one."

"I don't think it's worth it." His stomach lurched; sometimes she would make off handed reminders of her timeline and it plunged him down out of any kind of new relationship euphoria. The emotional whiplash was unsettling.

* * *

People trickled in and out of her bedroom. Blake was predictably the first and last person there; he had known her the longest after all. Everyone was a little tongue tied except for him, his bravado and crassness unbreakable. It was somehow reassuring that he was still making characteristic comments about her unfairly missing exams rather than piling on more sympathy. He eventually left along with the rest and Maka promptly burrowed under her blankets.

"It wasn't that bad, was it?" Soul prodded her shoulder.

"I hate having them see me this way. I hate having _you_ see me this way."

"Please don't tell me you want me to leave too." It came out like a joke, but he was being serious. _As if Maka could tell the difference._ "I don't think of you any differently."

"Cut the crap." She peeked her face out from under the covers.

"I'm not pulling any. I mean it, Maka. It's not like you've trapped me or something. I knew this could happen and I stayed anyways because I want to be with you."

She didn't even look up at him. "I want to go to school," she muttered bitterly, tears welling in her eyes. He stuffed down the twinge in his heart, told himself it was selfish to have expectations.

Maka Albarn did not cry easily; she never had, even from a young age. Skinned knees were nothing to her, scars only decoration. But there was something about inadequacy that destroyed her, and it broke his heart.

"Hey, let's do something." He brushed her shoulder through the blanket, hoping that distracting her would be helpful. It had always worked when he was the one in the dumps, which had been the better part of his life.

"What is there to even do? I can't do anything anymore. I can't play lacrosse, I can't go to school."

"We could watch a movie," Soul suggested. "You could read something, you love reading."

"I can't even read for very long anymore," she whimpered. _Who would have thought reading would be a sensitive topic for her?_ "It hurts my eyes, and my wrists get tired."

"I'll read something for you," he offered. It was the last resort.

"That sounds like torture; you are the world's slowest reader." She pointed out bluntly and laughed at him through her tears and thanked him for trying. "I want to go somewhere."

"Can you? I thought you were supposed to be resting." Visions of nosebleeds and baby deer legs danced before his eyes.

"The park is like, a block away. I'm sure I can make it."

Soul tossed his backpack over his shoulder and offered his arm to her so he could drag her to a standing position. Knees faltered momentarily, triggering his usual protective response to reach for her but she shooed him off.

"I can stand fine, it's getting up there that's the problem." She was too determined to be independent.

"Okay, let's go then." He reached for her hand, half expecting her to knock it away, but she linked her fingers lightly with his.

The park in question isn't much more than an empty lot of grass with a bench which she promptly collapsed on upon their arrival.

"This time last year I was running a 5K," she grumbled. It was hard not to let his sympathy show through. Her eyes flickered to pedestrians strolling by. Soul watched each of them break eye contact with her while she stared each one down with more ferocity than the last. "I knew people would be looking at me weird - I look like a giant baby."

"Nah, they're just looking away 'cause you're too punk." She snorts at him in response; _maybe he said the right thing for once._ "I mean, shaved head and combat boots, I wouldn't pick a fight with you."

"Only because you know better." She was smiling and leaning on his shoulder. His mission was complete. "Ugh," she grunted, pressing her head into his arm. "The wind feels so weird on my punk-bald head."

"I think I have a hat in here somewhere, if you want it." He rummaged around the bottom of his backpack and shook out a beanie.

"I don't want people to think I'm hiding."

"You can hide if you want to, they're not the ones you have to impress."

Walking back to the house was an arduous journey made up of two false trips and one real one, resulting in a piggyback ride for the remainder of the walk.

"I want my old life back," Maka whispered. Her legs shuddered at his sides and he could tell without looking at her that she was back on the edge of tears.

"Me too, Maka. Me too."


	6. i found the card where you wrote it out

**February 25th**

Soul opened the back door and peered around the corner to see if Maka and Spirit were still eating. Finding nothing but the blinking answering machine and a haphazard spread of dirty dishes, he assumed the worst.

"You have one new message." The wait through the automated section of the voicemail was arduous and infinite.

"Soul, don't panic." Spirit's voice came out of the receiver with the opposite intent of his words - Soul was definitely panicking. "We had to go to the hospital. Maka's fine, well, not _fine_ fine, but, you know." _Not dead,_ Soul tacked onto the end. "Hopefully you get this, I didn't have your cell number and I accidentally left Maka's behind in the rush. Can you bring it when you come over here?"

 _Not dead_. Soul has to repeat the phrase to himself more than a few times to drive it in properly. The assumption that he would come to the hospital, and be welcomed by the usually prickly Spirit, was comforting and flattering. The knowledge that Maka had to be taken to the hospital in a rush was less so.

"If I were Maka's cellphone, where would I be?" he muttered to himself, but getting inside Maka's head was no help. The house was a disaster zone. It wasn't just the dishes from their half-eaten dinner either; cleaning had become less and less of a priority for all of them in the last couple weeks. He can't imagine how Maka felt in that house, trash all over the counters, but unable to do much about it. It would be nice for her to come home to a clean place.

He started with the dishes. Soul hated cleaning, but it was somehow therapeutic doing it in Maka's place. Besides, this way he could find Maka's phone without making more of a mess. Or, alternatively, Spirit would call again with it's location.

Maka's desk felt odd under his pruney fingers. He _may_ have gotten a little lost in thought with his hands in the dish water waiting for the kitchen phone to ring.

It was probably an invasion of privacy to be putting Maka's clothes away - Spirit had obviously packed her bag - but he justified it with the fact that her phone was buried in a pile of sweaters and the only way to find it was to put everything away. Of course now he had also found an envelope buried in her clothes with his name on it, and a decision to make. It had his name on it didn't it?

It very quickly became clear that it was not for his eyes, at least at this moment.

 _Dear Soul,_

 _When you read this, I will be dead._

He had to remind himself logically that his reading this before it's intended date would not, in fact, kill her.

 _I'm sorry if this is the way you find out, but sometimes even I can't get the best of cowardice. I love you, I do. It's cathartic to write it down, knowing you won't be confronting me about it. I never want you to feel sorry for me, after all, and I'm scared of what you would say considering the circumstances. I know me dying isn't how things should have gone; we were supposed to dance around the issue for years and get married when were forty. Sorry, I'm trying to be funny when it really isn't. I don't expect anything to come of this love - you're too solid and I'm too flighty, and there's no time._

 _I guess it isn't fair to put this on you, but I had to get this off my chest. Maybe I'll just ask Tsubaki to destroy this instead of giving it to you. It would probably be kinder. Still, I wanted you to know instead of just writing it in my diary over and over like we're still twelve._

His breath shudders unevenly from his lungs. Where it that diary? Now that really would be a breach of privacy. No, he will limit himself to this deepest form of torture.

 _I also wanted to write down some things that you have to remind yourself after I'm gone, because I won't be there to say it anymore._

 _-You have a lot to offer the world, don't let your parents tell you otherwise_

 _-You don't need me_

 _-I know it will probably hurt, or I think it will (sometimes it's hard to tell if you actually like me) but it can't be the end of your world_

 _-Please please please try to remind yourself what I would say, because I won't be there to check_

 _God, I hate that I won't be there to check. I want you to be okay._

 _I love you, so much. Please remember me, but don't miss me._

 _Maka_

He had to go, right now. He stuffed the letter and Maka's stupid phone in his bag and took off for the hospital without bothering to put on his helmet. She'd lecture him for it later and he'll love it.

Bless Spirit for listing him as a family member at visitor check-in. Maybe the old man didn't have it out for him. Of course Spirit was in the room when Soul got there, he should have known he would be. So much for his dramatic confession plan.

"Is she awake?" he asked, trying to remember to tone down his volume in case she wasn't.

"I'm awake, what took you so long?" Maka whispered. Thankfully she was still well enough to sound irritated at him.

"I need to talk to you," he blurted out breathlessly.

"Papa?"

Spirit looked at both of them with drooping, sleepless eyes before leaving the room without a word.

"What is it?" Maka asked.

"I found your letter." He dug around his bag in search of evidence.

"And you read it?!"

"It had my name on it; it was written to me."

"Soul." The way she whispered his name, he knew she wasn't lying in the letter.

"Maka, I lo-"

"Don't say it. Don't you dare say it." She lurched forward for a second before dissolving into a fit of coughing.

"What? Why not?"

"I said I never wanted you to feel sorry for me."

"That's not-"

"Let me finish," she cut him off again. "I just mean, like I said before, when you were going to kiss me: How do I tell how affected you are by me dying?"

"How is that any different than you writing that now, when you're dying?" He desperately wanted to press his devotion into her mouth, but she wasn't accepting him.

"Soul." Her face softens, her cheeks pinking in a semblance of health. "I wrote that two and a half months ago when I first found out."


	7. i thought i saw you breathing

Author Note: Last part is here, warning for major character dearth

* * *

 **March 1st**

Soul sat on the edge of Maka's bed holding a portable DVD player and her hand. Spirit sat in the chair next to the bed with his head slumped down in accidental sleep. Maka's eyes weren't even open to watch the movie, but she was breathing softly still - Soul had to keep checking to make sure, and she'd whisper that he was being paranoid.

They had all reached a sort of peace with the heart rate monitor beeping gently in the background. It brought good news for the moment. Soul didn't even know what movie they were watching anymore; he was too focused on her vital signs. They weren't good, but they were there.

"I'm glad you're here." He wasn't completely sure he heard anything at all, but her lips were moving so she must have said something.

"Of course I'm here." He tugged his hat firmly down over her ears. "I always will be."

"I'm sorry I won't."

"Hey." He rubbed her fingers gently, afraid they might break. "Don't apologize, it's not your fault."

"I'm sorry I'm leaving you though." Her voice trembled. "I'm glad we had this time together though, all of it."

"Me too, you know I-"

"Don't."

"Damn." He bumped her shoulder as gently as he could. "I thought I could slip it in that time."

A ghost of a smile quivers at one side of her lips, almost to faint to recognize. "I told you I didn't want you to, didn't I?"

"Maybe I didn't want to read it either," he muttered in response.

"That was your own fault."

"I will miss you though, whether you want me to or not." Her eyes finally flickered open for a second. He took the opportunity to drink in the color before they shut again. "I'll miss you like a limb."

Her response doesn't come so he took comfort in her heart rate. It was still there; she was still alive.

Each beep could have been the last, but the finality still surprised him. He was counting, four four musical time. The measure ended on the third beat, never resolved. Spirit's head jerked up from the bed at the sound of silence.

Spirit's chair screeched across the floor, filling the emptiness. "Maka, baby?"

The response never came.

"Maka, hey." Soul tightened his grip on her hand. He wanted to wake her, could surely wake her if he held on tightly enough. "Hey, I love you, tell me not to say it dammit. Tell me one more time!" He didn't care that he was yelling; he wanted to wake the dead after all.

Two nurses rushed in to shatter his sense of denial; their invasion of sacred ground keeps them from pretending that nothing is different. Nothing looks different. If he looks hard enough, he could almost imagine she was still breathing.

They marked her time of death and asked Spirit to sign as a witness. It was too fast, too clinical. Spirit rushed him out of the room with toneless words about how they'll say goodbye at the funeral.

When Spirit leaned over to buckle Soul's seatbelt for him, the bicycle in front of the hospital doesn't cross either of their minds. It was an odd sort of situation, the father and the boyfriend of a dead girl, in the car with no particular destination. They ended up back at Spirit's house by way of muscle memory more than anything else. Soul didn't even think about the fact that he had no way of getting home. This was where he was supposed to be, wasn't it?

The sight of the spotless kitchen surprised him and an overwhelming flashback overtook.

* * *

If he had a choice in the matter, Soul would have spent the days full time in the hospital with Maka. But he was still in school, and Maka had threatened him with violence if he dared skip or fail any classes. He took her threat seriously for posterity, even when she didn't carry the same weight as before. When his middle name was involved, there would be very real consequences.

Class came first, then cleaning came after. Maka liked having a clean kitchen, so he cleaned it in her place. He even took pictures to show her his exploits, but she adamant that she would admire in person when she came home.

* * *

The plate in his hand was close to sparkling. The sound it made when it hit the ground sounded like sparkling too. The first one was an accident - the second was not.

"Soul, stop." Spirit sounded so defeated, not nearly as angry as Soul might have hoped. Maka would have been much angrier, maybe she'd have hit him with a book for good measure.

 _Not dead. Not dead. Not dead._

He needed some reassurance to fuel his mantra interspersed with the crash of dishes. A voice that was definitely not the wanted to hear was calling for him.

"Soul, you can't bring her back." The next plate is snatched out of his hand. "No one can."

Foreign hands, Spirit's hands, gripped his shoulders and shook him. Repetition on repetition, they reminded each other what had happened while neither one truly believed the other.

Soul quaked. Nothing had ever been normal.

Soul remembered very distinctly the last time he had cried. He used to cry a lot as a child. A sensitive boy, his mom has said, before some kind of macho bravado settled in and stole his feelings. It was about time for eight years of repression to break down.

It was catharsis, really.

"Damn it all." His words were broken. He sobbed - without Maka there was no reason to pretend anymore.

Spirit just rubbed his shoulders awkwardly and mumbled placations. "I know, I know."

He did know, after all. Spirit had lost Maka too, along with his own wife. The Ex-Mrs. Albarn was as good as dead to them, not even present for Maka's last breath.

It wasn't fair to any of them. Soul made to sure to repeat this, a new mantra to replace the fallacy of his old one. At some point he crumbled, splayed his knees in the broken ceramic. Spirit joined him on the floor without question.

* * *

After the funeral he would stare at her handwriting. His friends tried to say that reading her letter over and over wasn't going to help, wasn't going to let him move on. They didn't know that that wasn't the goal. Soul was on a mission to never forget her voice, the way she talked, and the way she wrote.

Spirit barely wanted to look at her pictures anymore, said he was tempted to get rid of them, but Soul hoarded all the things he could get his hands on. He took Spirit's denial as an opportunity. He had been given free range of organizing boxes, which turned up a tape of their eighth grade spelling bee, with beaming Maka Albarn knocking rival nerd Ox out of the water. He very clearly remembered making fun of her for being a nerd before buying her icecream.

He ended the day with one more read through of the only words that had any meaning for him. _Don't miss me,_ she had written. He wanted more than anything to make her happy, but motivation to keep his promises left when she wasn't there to be disappointed in him. Drowning in her memory was preferable to floating by without it.


End file.
